Working Abroad

The Expat Diaries: What It's Like To Be The Foreign Guy At Work

In June 2012, longtime AskMen editor Michael McKenna decided to pull up stakes and move to Pristina, Kosovo — a formerly war-torn quasi-capital that, until very recently, he could not have located on a map. Though his friends warned of organ theft, mysterious white vans and an inordinate surfeit of goats, and his dad assumed he had lost a bet, it’s all going pretty well so far. You can read his musings on Balkan life at inpristina.com, but for his thoughts on getting down to business in a faraway place, check out this second installment of AskMen’s Expat Guide.

When it comes to doing business in remote and foreign places, there are two opposing concepts that tend to enter the average man’s mind. On one hand, there you are, on the top floor of the Four Seasons Geneva, exchanging mercantile bons mots (“seems like we need to catch these Asian tigers by their toes”) with men in fine suits, while Slovenian models in cocktail dresses slink around for reasons your brain doesn’t quite provide. On the other, your drab, nervous little “Projections for 2013: Things To Consider” PowerPoint empties the conference room of the Port Moresby Hyatt (“Cannibalism-free since 2007!”) because pie charts are a symbol of death there.

In truth, of course, both situations are best avoided — the first because it is either a barroom delusion or the colorful prelude to your kidnapping by organ thieves (see The Expat’s Guide: Part One), and the second because it’s an overblown and easily avoided situation, and one that any reader of this column will soon be equipped to sidestep.

For the vacationer, the world is defined by its differences: weird hats, bad translations (Monsieur Chauve-Souris: Le Chevalier Noir Qu’ascend), soccer. For the commercial traveler, however, it should ultimately be defined by its similarities. It’s not very hard, for instance, to avoid the sort of (initially amusing) cultural misunderstandings that can ultimately land one in a Sudanese prison, and it is fairly easy to remain on your hosts’ good side.

We’ve all heard the stories: Pepsi imports “Brings You Back To Life” campaign to China, literal translation (“Pepsi Will Raise Your Ancestors From The Dead”) leaves consumers fearing zombies. Coors translates its “Turn It Loose” slogan into Spanish, South Americans read about the new American beer that promises explosive diarrhea (Freudian slip?). Ford sells “Pinto” in Brazil, Brazilian men show strange reluctance to purchase the “Ford Tinypenismobile.” These are funny anecdotes, you know, great icebreakers for would-be marketing profs — subtle indictments of commercial arrogance and provincialism. They are also among the easiest sorts of situations to avoid.

Your Weakness Is Your Strength

When you’re working abroad, everybody knows that you’re The Foreign Guy. It’s not a big deal, it’s not a strike against you, and it’s not an excuse to isolate yourself from the people that you’re working with. Instead, it’s the reason that you’re there.

Whether it’s you deciding to strike out on your own in a new market or your employer deciding to send you to the ends of the earth to act on their behalf, the whole point of the exercise is to bring something new. The assumption underlying your whole enterprise is that The Way We Do Things might find purchase among The Way They Do Things. Everybody is looking for you to contribute a little bit of your culture, of your worldview, and nobody is over-examining your handshake to see if you curled your thumb in that one specific way that means their grandfather was a flightless bird (or whatever).